


I want to keep feeling you

by LiveOakWithMoss, snartha



Series: Punching out my dancelines [29]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Banter, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, DWMP verse, Deepthroating, Friends With Benefits, Getting high and fucking, Illustrated, Inappropriate comments about Emily Post, M/M, Marijuana, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing Clothes, Take these sexy garbage pigeons away from me, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snartha/pseuds/snartha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting high and reading the <i>Financial Times</i> together in bed on a Saturday morning: that’s what friends with benefits are for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want to keep feeling you

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Our favorite illicit lovers, stoners, trashbirds.  
> 1\. Inspired and illustrated by [snartha](http://snartha.tumblr.com/).  
> 2\. This takes place in the winter of dwmp’s first year, sometimes in the midst of their affair.

The room was warm and the air was musty with the smell of sex, stale chips, and sweet smoke. Caranthir reached behind him and pushed open the window; the cold winter air was sharp and clear and felt beautiful against his sweaty skin. Next to him on the rumpled blankets of the bed, a long figure wearing only boxers and Caranthir’s favorite tee-shirt stretched, exhaled a stream of smoke, and rolled over to rest his head on Caranthir’s leg.

“Want another hit?”

Caranthir tossed the paper he’d been reading to the side. “Yeah, sure.”

Finrod reached up lazily to hold the joint to Caranthir’s lips, and Caranthir took a long drag. Finrod leaned over to prop the joint on an ashtray while Caranthir held the smoke in his lungs and then exhaled slowly, closing his eyes.

“Very nice, this week,” said Finrod, dropping his head back down to Caranthir’s lap and wrapping an arm around his leg. “Very smooth.”

“Yeah, I’ll thank the Humboldt county farmers.” Caranthir pulled his fingers absently through Finrod’s hair while Finrod yawned like a cat and nuzzled against his thigh. “I shoulda figured out this incentive for waking up before noon years ago.”

“What, weed and sex?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad I could help enlighten you,” murmured Finrod, his eyes drifting shut. “I don’t like wasting my Saturday mornings on sleep.”

“You’re like five seconds away from falling asleep,” Caranthir pointed out.

“Yes, but only _after_ I got high,” said Finrod sleepily.

“And fucked.”

“Yes, I got that too.” Caranthir could feel Finrod smile against his skin. He was only in his boxers too, and Finrod turned his head, nuzzling against the bare skin of his upper leg, and then using his teeth to tug lightly at the material of Caranthir’s shorts.

“Careful with teeth in that area,” Caranthir warned, but he could already feel himself getting hard.

“Why did you bother putting clothes on?” Finrod asked, slightly muffled. He nudged against Caranthir’s half-hard erection through his shorts, and Caranthir let out a breath.

“Well, you did.”

“I had to get up and use the restroom,” said Finrod, his breath hot between Caranthir’s legs, and Caranthir fought the urge to thrust up against him. “I thought your brothers might object to me strolling naked through the house.”

“Why would anyone object to _you_ strolling naked anywhere?” asked Caranthir, his voice going a little rough at the end, the way it did when he was getting impossibly turned on.

Finrod shivered. “God, Carnistir.”

“What?”

“I love when you talk like that.” Finrod let his lips part and mouthed lightly at Caranthir’s confined erection. “I love when you get bold, and your voice goes all…all low and sexy, and…”

“Sexy, huh?” Caranthir said it very quietly, but it had a clear effect on Finrod, who groaned and pressed his tongue to the front of Caranthir’s shorts. He could feel the wet heat of it seep through to his cock, and he bit his lip to keep from moving. “What else do you find sexy?”

“Mmm.” Finrod rolled over so he was belly down on the bed, his arms wrapped around Caranthir’s waist as he continued to nuzzle against his crotch. “ _E_ _verything_. But I like it when you get high and your movements get loose and you are handsy and rough and sensual and you can’t stop touching me. I like it when you drag my clothes off and swear because I’m not moving fast enough, and I like it when you finally get me naked and your eyes light up and you lick your lips – god, your lips are hot, I just want to kiss them and bruise them and bite them and bloody them…”

“Fuckin’ poet,” said Caranthir, and grunted as Finrod nipped at him. He knotted a hand into Finrod’s hair and pulled lightly, and he could see Finrod’s hips roll in response, rubbing himself against the bed. “Are you going to suck me off or what?”

“Such a bossy asshole,” said Finrod mildly, and dragged his tongue against the bulge of Caranthir’s erection. “Why do I find that so sexy, too?”

“Because you’re weird as fuck.”

“And so well-mannered…”

“If you want well-mannered, fuck Emily Post.” Caranthir reached down to pull his cock free of his boxers. “Ingo, for Christ’s sake…”

“And somehow you manage to turn me on even more,” said Finrod, addressing the heavens, and casually swallowed Caranthir’s length to the base.

“Jesus _fuck_.”

Finrod made a noise, fingers digging into Caranthir’s thighs, and Caranthir held his moan down behind his teeth.

“Fuck, Ingo, fuck fuck fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, do you know what you look like, deep-throating me?”

Finrod hummed, sending vibrations up Caranthir’s cock, and Caranthir could see him grinding his hips against the bed, his own shorts riding up and pulling taut against the curve of his ass.

“You keep doin’ that and I’m gonna come,” whispered Caranthir, “blow my load down your throat and you’ll just keep sucking me off ‘til I’m done, still humping the bed like that ‘til you come in your pants, make a mess everywhere, and leave it for later…” Normally, even thinking words like this would be enough to make him freeze up and color to the tips of his ears, but when he was this turned on, nothing seemed to embarrass him, nothing felt too far.

Finrod moaned wildly and reached a hand down between his own legs, and Caranthir grabbed for his shoulders. “Hold on.”

Finrod let Caranthir’s cock drop from his lips and fixed a deadly blue stare on him. “ _This_ , now, this whole _stopping_ me thing? Is less sexy.”

“Get up here.”

Finrod moved too slowly for his liking, so Caranthir grabbed him and pulled him up, hauling him against his chest, jerking his shirt off as he felt Finrod’s arousal press against his thigh. Finrod was panting by the time Caranthir rolled him down to the mattress and started working his shorts over his hips. He started to say something, but Caranthir wrapped a hand over his mouth and used his other hand to pin Finrod’s wrist to the bed. Finrod didn’t resist, but arched his hips up eagerly, spreading his legs and trying to rub his arousal against Caranthir’s stomach, but Caranthir, despite his initial impatience, suddenly wanted very much to see how long he could torture Finrod instead.

He pulled back, kneeling between Finrod’s thighs, still holding Finrod’s arms down. Slowly he let his hands wander up the inside of Finrod’s arms, reveling in the heat of his skin and the feel of muscle in his slim arms. He got briefly distracted by how the muscles tightened and strained as Finrod squirmed under him, watching the lines shift and pull, until Finrod gave a half whimper, half snarl.

“Are you just going to leave me in this state?”

“Maybe.” Caranthir licked his lips. “I like you like this.”

Finrod slid his heels down the mattress and hooked them behind Caranthir’s knees, trying to drag him close. “You like me frustrated and desperate?”

“Yeah.” Caranthir resisted for a moment, then relented and leaned forward over Finrod’s body, finally letting their erections brush together. Finrod’s groan vibrated in his throat, and Caranthir pressed his lips to it, and then his tongue, letting it lave sloppily over Finrod’s skin. Finrod groaned again, and Caranthir imagined the vibration running from Finrod’s throat to Caranthir’s tongue, to his mouth, down his own throat, and into his stomach.

“Fuck,” he whispered into Finrod’s neck. “I’m so fucking high.”

“And I’m so fucking hard.” Finrod squirmed again, canting his hips, and Caranthir mouthed at the bruise on Finrod’s shoulder that he’d left earlier. “ _Fuck me.”_

“Hah. I like when you get horny enough to swear.”

“Carnistir," said Finrod sweetly, "you motherfucking cocksucking piece of shit…”

“Yeah, that's more like it.” Caranthir grinned and finally let go of Finrod’s arms. Finrod immediately grabbed him and tried to pull him down, urging him between his buttocks, pressing his heels into Caranthir’s low back. Caranthir let his cock rub against Finrod’s groin as he very carefully sucked a symmetrical bruise onto his other shoulder. He let his teeth graze the bruise when he was done, and Finrod swore so beautifully that Caranthir almost relented and pushed into him then and there. But –

“Wait.”

“No!”

“Calm down, jeez, you’re the one who wanted us to be better about using condoms.” Caranthir scrabbled over the side of the bed for the half empty box of condoms on the ground.

Finrod thumped back down to the pillows, releasing Caranthir reluctantly. “I suppose you’re right.”

Caranthir tossed the lube to Finrod. “Get yourself ready.”

“I _am_ ready.” Finrod half sat up and wrapped his hands over Caranthir’s thighs as Caranthir knelt on the bed, rolling the condom down on his cock. “You’ve taken me three times in the last 24 hours, trust me, _I am ready_.” Once the condom was on, Finrod took the lube and poured a bit over Caranthir’s erection, slicking him up expertly and running his hand down the shaft in easy, teasing strokes.

“Fuck, you are so good at that.” Caranthir let himself move into Finrod’s fist. “You and your fucking piano player fingers and your pretty boy face, but you are a fucking champ at jerking me off…”

Finrod looked up at him, eyes dark with desire. “I’d tell you to stop talking so much and fuck me already, but I do like hearing your voice.”

“I like hearing yours.” Caranthir pushed Finrod back down on the bed and let the head of his cock press lightly against Finrod’s entrance. “You sound like a goddamn wet dream when you moan.”

Finrod bit his lip, breathing heavily through his nose and trying to press down against Caranthir’s cock, but Caranthir held him still.

“Don’t move so much.”

“ _Carnistir_.”

“Shh. I wanna…I like watching me slide into you.” Immediately, Finrod fell totally still, though his legs tightened around Caranthir’s waist. Caranthir planted a hand by Finrod’s waist and looked down, watching himself slide slowly into Finrod. Finrod’s cock was hard and flushed against his stomach, and Caranthir could see it throb as he pushed in deeper. Finrod reached up, his hands dragging down Caranthir’s sides, and Caranthir closed his eyes as he pushed in the last few inches until he was flush to Finrod’s ass, and Finrod was gasping quietly beneath him.

“You are so…damn…hot,” Caranthir whispered. “You look like…like…” He couldn’t find the words for what Finrod looked like, naked and shining with sweat, his cheeks and chest suffused with color, his eyes so bright, so very bright, and fixed on him, looking at him with such desire that it was almost enough to make Caranthir come at the sight. “You are…something else.”

It was horribly insufficient, but Finrod didn’t seem to care, raising his hips as if he could take Caranthir even deeper and Caranthir began to thrust, long and slow and steady, and each stroke elicited a soft moan from Finrod. His knees slipping on the sheets, Caranthir tried to sit back, but was unwilling to relinquish Finrod's tight heat for even a second. Instead he wrapped his arms tightly around Finrod’s waist and pulled him up into his lap. Finrod sank down astride his thighs with a small cry. He braced his feet by Caranthir’s hips, his long legs splayed and his knees poking into Caranthir’s arms, and began to lift himself off Caranthir’s cock. Caranthir was about to grab him, make him hold still again, when he realized that Finrod was slowly fucking himself on Caranthir’s cock, sweat rolling down his chest, his hands tight on Caranthir’s shoulders as he rode him. Caranthir licked the sweat off him, buried his face in his neck and whispered inanities, too far gone to even know what he was saying, just that his words made Finrod clutch him even harder and whisper, “God, _god_ , yes, Carnistir, please…”

Earlier, his orgasm had seized him fast and hard, shaken him to pieces and made him bite Finrod’s shoulder bloody. But now the pleasure built low and hot, as they pressed so closely together Caranthir forgot what was his skin and what was Finrod’s; so close that he could no longer tell whose moans were being swallowed by the other’s tongue.

Finrod’s legs had to be cramping in this position, Caranthir thought hazily, as his orgasm rolled closer, as Finrod stopped raising himself up on Caranthir’s cock and instead just rocked against him, their panting breaths falling into sync.

“I’m gonna come,” whispered Caranthir. “I’m gonna come, fuck, you’re so sexy, you’re so hot, you’re so beautiful, _Ingo_ , Ingo, Ingo…”

At the sound of his name, Finrod threw his head back, the bruises on his throat and shoulders standing out lividly, and cried out. As he did, he clenched impossibly tight around Caranthir’s cock, and Caranthir felt the room dim around him as his orgasm hit.

“Sweet fucking Jesus,” he groaned, and then Finrod’s tongue was in his mouth again as he came.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Caranthir sprawled out on the sheets, belly down and limbs loose, and dropped his head onto Finrod’s shoulder. Finrod, who had flopped down flat on his back, spent and sated, still had his eyes closed as he caught his breath, but he reached a hand up to pull his fingers through Caranthir’s hair. Caranthir mumbled something and shifted his head around like a dog seeking a good scratch, and Finrod dragged his fingers against Caranthir’s scalp and made a mess of his hair.

“I can’t tell,” said Finrod after a while, his voice drowsy, “if I’m just really high, or if you’ve literally fucked me stupid.”

“My fault either way, then.”

“Yes. _Such_ a bad influence.”

“Who, me? Until you came along, I fucked no one’s boyfriends, okay, so if we’re talking about ‘bad influence’…”

“Too soon.” Finrod pulled Caranthir’s hair and pinched him.

“What’s a bigger vice, drugs or infidelity?”

“You are _such_ an asshole, seriously, at some point I’m going to stop getting turned on by it and just – ”

Caranthir rolled out of the way as Finrod halfheartedly grabbed for him, and then scrabbled at the sheets as he nearly fell off the bed. “Shit!”

Finrod chuckled, and stretched out one bare leg to try and push Caranthir the rest of the way off. Instead, Caranthir grabbed his thigh and hung on, and Finrod groaned. “Lord, Carnistir, haven’t you done enough to my lower body this morning? And last night?” He grabbed for the bag of Doritos that was still on the bed and tossed a handful at Caranthir’s head.

“Hey! You’re getting chips in my bed!”

“There are crumbs, old newspapers, used condoms, and ash in your bed,” said Finrod, looking around. “Chips are the least of your concerns. Where did the joint go, by the way? And your lighter?”

“The bed was plenty neat before you came along,” mumbled Caranthir, hauling himself naked back onto the bed and trying to brush the worst of the mess away. “It’s on the end table in the ashtray.” He draped himself over Finrod’s back as Finrod reached for the joint and relit it with the lighter next to the ashtray.

Finrod held the joint out of reach as Caranthir grabbed for it, and instead tilted Caranthir’s chin up to blow smoke between his parted lips. Caranthir wriggled closer so he could fasten his mouth over Finrod’s, and they kissed lazily as smoke curled from the joint between Finrod’s fingers, and Caranthir wondered if he still might be able to taste himself on Finrod’s tongue. He sucked it into his mouth to better see, and Finrod groaned and wound his arms around his neck.

Caranthir was too sated to get hard again, but he rolled onto his back, pulling Finrod over on top of him, and they kissed languorously, messily, their bare legs tangled together, and Finrod’s tongue tasted like smoke, and Doritos, and Caranthir. The window was still open, and outside it was starting to snow, thin grey flakes floating past the window. Caranthir leaned back on the pillows to watch it fall while Finrod sucked hard on his throat and Caranthir tipped his head back further, too content to care about the bruise and the inevitable derision he’d get from his brothers. His half-closed eyes flickered away from the window briefly, and he saw…smoke?

“Oh, shit.” He sat upright so quickly his head spun, and pushed Finrod off to the side.

“Ouch, Carnistir, what was that f – oh _no._ ”

“You dropped it while it was still lit!” Caranthir grabbed the abandoned joint and pinched it out, waving frantically at the spot where the sheet was starting to smolder. “Do you have a – a fire extinguisher or anything?”

“A fire extinguisher? No, why, do you keep one in your bedroom?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why – Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Finrod sat up, grabbed the water glass from the side of the bed, and threw it at the smoking sheet.

They both stared at the sodden, grey spot, and then Finrod began to laugh.

“Okay, _now_ I’ll take responsibility for making your bed a mess.”

“You dick.” Caranthir kicked the _Financial Times_ out of the way and grabbed Finrod around the waist, pushing him down to the mattress and trying to pin him there as Finrod shook with laughter and tried to kick him. “You literally set my fucking _bed_ on fire.”

“I didn’t mean to! Help.”

“No one will help you now,” growled Caranthir, and bit at the lobe of Finrod’s ear, making him gasp, and laugh some more until tears rolled down his cheeks, and he hung tight to Caranthir’s neck to pull him into another kiss.

“You can’t _always_ distract me like that,” whispered Caranthir, against Finrod’s mouth.

“Watch me.” Finrod took his lower lip lightly between his teeth and dragged Caranthir down against him, and Caranthir could find no reason to protest his tactics.

It felt too good.

So he laughed, too, stoned and happy and warm with pleasure and with Finrod laughing back at him in his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

Time seemed utterly lazy in its passing as seconds ticked away like the snowflakes falling outside, and Caranthir half wondered if the whole day had passed, and it was Sunday morning now, or maybe Saturday of the next week, and he’d just spent seven days naked and high and in bed with Finrod. It wasn’t until Finrod sat up, brushing his hair out of his eyes in a businesslike fashion, that Caranthir felt the world slowly drift back into reality.

“Where are my underwear?” asked Finrod, casting about amongst the tangled sheets and pillows.

“Not fit to be worn,” said Caranthir, propped against the headboard, and watching appreciatively as Finrod slid out of bed and bent down to look under the bureau.

“I am dying of thirst,” muttered Finrod. “I have the worst dry mouth right now, and I poured the last of the water over our pet bonfire. I need to go get something to drink and I can’t…find…anything to _wear_.” Fed up, he finally jerked a shirt out of a pile on the floor and pulled it over his head.

Caranthir eyed him. “You look good in Dir en Grey.”

“More importantly, it’s long.” Finrod examined himself critically. “Am I fully covered?”

“Your ass and junk aren’t falling out,” said Caranthir comfortably. “But don’t bend over.”

Finrod waved an airy hand at him. “Of course. Okay, do you want anything?”

“Literally any food. Cheez-Its sound amazing, though.” Caranthir was suddenly ravenously hungry. “Damn, Cheez-Its sound so good they might be enough to get me hard again.”

“The world’s forgotten aphrodisiac. I’ll see what I can do.” As Caranthir picked up the paper again and flipped to the stock coverage, Finrod slipped out of the door to Caranthir’s room and into the living room.

 

* * *

 

 

Finrod looked up and froze. Maglor and Celegorm were both sitting on the couch, seemingly absorbed in playing a video game on the TV. They both glanced up as the door clicked shut behind Finrod, and Celegorm grinned.

“Nice gams, Ingo.”

Finrod resisted the urge to bend his knees and sink down to make the tee-shirt cover more. “Um. Hello. I was just…getting some water…”

“Rehydrating.” Celegorm nodded wisely. “Good call, after that marathon.”

Maglor elbowed his brother, and Finrod blushed.

“I’ll just…The kitchen.” He tried to walk as quickly and modestly as he could towards the hallway, edging around the room with his back to the wall, as Celegorm smirked at the TV and Maglor pointedly averted his eyes.

By the time Finrod made it back to the room, Caranthir was sitting cross-legged on the bed. He had pulled his sweatshirt and boxers back on and was flicking the lighter open and closed as he pored over the paper spread out in front of him.

“Oh, so _you_ managed to locate underwear, at least.” Finrod came in and vengefully kicked a sock across the room. “Meanwhile I just had to avoid pulling a Marilyn in front of your brothers.”

“What food did you get?” asked Caranthir, not looking up.

“In front of your brother _s_ ,” repeated Finrod pointedly. “I got to flash both Tyelko and Makalaurë in my quest for sustenance.”

“You flashed ‘em? Christ, Ingo, you freak, why?”

“It wasn’t on purpose.” Finrod threw a box of animal crackers at Caranthir’s head. “ _Obviously._ But you failed to mention they might be out there.”

“They do, like, live here.” Caranthir investigated the box and pulled out an elephant, which he ate. “Just be glad it wasn’t Curvo out there, talk about dick-withering.”

“Yes, well,” murmured Finrod. He crossed the room and set his water on the bedside table, then got back into bed. He folded his legs under the covers and leaned against Caranthir’s side, nimbly stealing a section of the paper for himself. “Did you intentionally choose the most boring newspaper there is? I guess it could be worse. It could be the _Wall Street Journal_.”

“Sh,” said Caranthir, shoving a lion into Finrod’s mouth.

“These are stale.”

“You got ‘em.”

“It was the only snack food readily accessible! Look, do you have a _New Yorker_ or something?”

“Picky picky. Bitching about the snacks, bitching about the reading material…” Caranthir shook his head and flipped a page in the newspaper as Finrod tucked himself against his side and rested his head on his shoulder. “Anything you _don’t_ have complaints about?”

“The company,” said Finrod, and kissed Caranthir’s ear before scooting down, curling up with his head in Caranthir’s lap, and closing his eyes.

“Uh huh.” But Caranthir couldn’t stop a half smile from flickering over his lips as he once more ran a hand through Finrod’s bright hair, and outside, the snow continued to fall.

 

 


End file.
